


A lifetime ago

by irisdouglasiana



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Season/Series 01, a special kind of awkward, happy introspective independence day, these two kill me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 02:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7387432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisdouglasiana/pseuds/irisdouglasiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy’s been stuck on the night shift more often than not since Jack became chief. Not that she minds, since she has good company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A lifetime ago

“I think it was a waste of perfectly good tea, that’s all,” Peggy shrugs. “Americans are so dramatic.”

“Aw, I knew you’d say that.” Jack is just heading out, briefcase in hand. He adopts the worst Cockney accent Peggy has ever heard. “Oy, Marge! ‘Appy Independence Day to you too!”

Daniel snaps a rubber band at Jack’s retreating back and misses. From behind him, Peggy snaps one at Daniel and scores a direct hit. “What was that for?” he asks, spinning around in his chair to face her. He flicks it back at her.

“No reason.” Peggy’s been stuck on the night shift more often than not since Jack became chief, and she’s sure it’s intentional—with Jack, it always is. Not that she minds, since she has good company. (She suspects that’s also not a coincidence.)

But tonight, she’s a bit disappointed to be missing the festivities. She can hear the low boom of fireworks in the distance. She cranes her neck to peer out the closest window, but she can’t see anything from where she’s sitting.

“Over there,” Daniel says, grabbing his crutch and pushing himself to his feet. She follows him over to the meeting room adjacent to the office. Though the other buildings block some of the view, from here they can see most of the show. Peggy raises the blinds and pushes open the window, letting the breeze in.

Next to her, Daniel leans on the windowsill. “Your first Fourth of July in the states?”

“Yes,” she says, watching as an orange firework shoots up and explodes in a peony pattern before fading away. “What do you usually do for the holiday?”

“You mean when I was a kid?” Daniel shakes his head and smiles. “Well, my parents usually took me to the beach—it was always packed with thousands of people. Oh, and we’d shoot off firecrackers in the street, too. Me and my mother; my dad didn’t like them. It’s a miracle we didn’t lose any fingers.”

It’s the sort of thing Peggy would have loved when she was younger. “And now?”

“Last Fourth of July was my first back home, and the year before that...” He shrugs. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Where had Peggy been, last July? Back in London, back with her parents, trying to slip back into the role that was expected of her—except it was years too late for that. _That_ Peggy was long gone. _That_ Peggy would have married Fred, would have left her job, would have tended to the laundry and the garden. Would have children by now. And, if that Peggy had been able to fool herself well enough, she might not have been miserable. But she wasn’t sure if that Peggy had ever existed in the first place. And so it was only a matter of months before she got on a plane and headed across the Atlantic, aching for something; aching for _more_.

Not long after Peggy arrived in New York, she had somehow found herself in Steve’s old neighborhood. She knew the address, but she hadn’t gone there with any conscious intent—she had taken the train, picked a stop at random, started walking—and suddenly there she was, standing at the bottom of the steps of a brownstone house that looked like every other one on the block. For a brief second, she considered going up to the door and knocking, but she didn’t know what she would do if somebody answered. So she continued on.

She stepped into a café one block away and sat down and ordered a cup of coffee. Then she looked up at the walls to see Steve looking back at her from a framed picture, surrounded by old newspaper clippings about Captain America. She wondered if he had been to this place before; if he had sat in this very spot. For a moment, she thought the door might open and he might come walking in, sit across from her, and smile. _Welcome to Brooklyn_.

“He lived just down the street, you know,” the waitress said as she poured the coffee.

“Did you know him?”

She laughed. “Sugar, I wish! What a fella.”

Peggy took one sip of coffee and set the mug back down on the table. She sat there for a long time, until the coffee turned cold. How many times must one say goodbye?

_Another lifetime ago, indeed_. And then Howard came barreling back into her life, and Chief Dooley had died, and Dottie had fought and escaped. Peggy had poured the last of Steve into the East River and let a few more tears fall. Then she gave herself permission to keep living.

That was back in May. Only two months ago, the man standing next to her had been glaring at her from the other side of the interrogation table. Angry and already convinced of her guilt, he had looked right past her. She’s not sure if she’s fully forgiven him yet for it. Still, tonight they watch fireworks together. Does he see her now?  

She hopes he does. Her hand on the windowsill is only inches away from his. If she were a braver person, she might reach out and take it. She hasn’t forgotten his invitation for drinks, but he never brought it up again. Maybe he’s been waiting for her.

Now Daniel’s noticed too—he looks down at their hands, not quite touching, and then meets her eyes. His eyes are so dark in this light, almost black, but there’s a softness there that she hadn’t noticed before. His lips part slightly. _Oh._

In the other room, Daniel’s phone begins to ring. “Christ,” he mutters, and heads back to his desk to answer it. She stays by the window and watches him. He glances back at her and she looks away. Peggy realizes that she’s already walked through his neighborhood, during one of her sojourns around New York. She had traced his steps without even knowing it. She wonders what it had been like for him to come back after the war; whether he felt like a stranger too, everything familiar and unfamiliar at once. She wonders how he found his way home, this kid from Manhattan who ran and hollered and exploded firecrackers in the street…

The fireworks are over by now, but she still lingers by the window. Peggy leans forward and closes her eyes, listening to the cars passing below. She hasn’t had many moments like this lately to just stop and breathe. With the war over, life was supposed to be back to normal now. The future wasn’t supposed to be this uncertain. No fireworks will light that path. But there’s no going back anymore—only forward.

And yet she wouldn’t have it any other way. She looks over into the other room. Daniel is still on the phone; the stack of reports sit unfinished on Peggy’s desk. The night shift is just getting started and there is much left to be done.

Peggy closes the window. Back to work.


End file.
